It was the next day, and, in spite of wind-sails and open ports, hotter
than ever. The _Nautilus_ was back off the Palm River, lying at anchor,
waiting as usual for news which might end in a more successful
expedition than the last, for the nefarious traffic was still being
carried on just under the nose of Her Majesty's little cruiser, in spite
of every effort to catch the cunning skippers who set the officers at
defiance.
Mark opened his eyes after a long, refreshing sleep, for Bob Howlett had
contrived to keep the cabin comparatively cool; and as soon as the lads'
eyes met, the sick middy's thoughts went back to the last conversation
they had held.
"Bob," he whispered.
That young gentleman held up his hand.
"Only a word or two and I'll be quiet."
"Yes, you'd better. If you say much I'll fetch old Whitney to give you
an awful dose."
"Tell me this: is the captain much cut up, and Mr Staples, too?"
"Of course they are, both of them, horribly."
Mark sighed, and was silent for some moments.
"Tell me about Tom Fillot," he said at last. "How is he?"
"Pretty well all right again."
There was another pause, which lasted some minutes, before the sick lad
spoke again.
"Couldn't the doctor save them?"
"No; only the two," replied Bob, coolly. "You see, the starving and
heat were too much for them. Whitney did everything he could for them,
but, as he said, they died off like flies."
Mark looked at him in horror.
"How can you be so brutally cynical?" he said, with a shudder.
"Who's brutally cynical?" cried Bob, indignantly, and forgetting all the
doctor's orders. "I'm very sorry, of course. We did all we could to
save the poor fellows, but they died, and there's an end of them. I
don't feel bound to be miserable because the doctor couldn't save them."
Mark's brow contracted a little. He felt that he did not like Bob
Howlett half so well as of old, but that perhaps he had been too hard in
calling him brutally cynical, and he spoke more gently now.
"Who were the two that recovered?"
"Eh? I dunno."
Mark stared.
"Well, how should I know what their names are? Hashy and Quashy, or
something of the kind. They're out and outers to eat, and don't seem a
bit the worse. I called 'em Soup and Taters yesterday after seeing 'em
at their feeding."
"What are you talking about?"
"I was answering your questions about the black fellows."
"I didn't ask you about the blacks."
"Yes, you did."
"I didn't, stupid," said Mark, angrily.
"Huh! Ha, ha!" cried Bob. "He's getting better. Go it, old chap!
Call me something else."
"I asked you about the boat's crew."
"No, you didn't. What about 'em?"
"I asked you about their being saved, and you said all were dead but
two."
"Oh, I say, what a cracker! You are getting better, and no mistake.
You asked me about how many of the black fellows the doctor saved, and I
told you those two first fellows that we got on board, and the others
died."
"Then Mr Russell and the lads?"
"Oh, they're all right," cried Bob; "leastways, not all right, but ever
so much better. You've been by a long way the worst."
"Then Mr Russell isn't dead?" gasped Mark.
"Here, steady, my lad. What's the matter?"
"Oh, tell me--tell me!" cried Mark, excitedly.
"Why, of course he isn't. Now, don't go on like that. Here, I'll run
for old Whitney."
"No, no," whispered Mark, clinging to his messmate's arm. "I'm better
now. I thought you told me that he was dead. It has worried me
dreadfully."
"Oh, but you shouldn't get all sorts of fancies in your head now it's a
bit weak. I don't know about saying _now_ it's a bit weak," said Bob,
with a comical smile, "because you always were a soft-headed sort of
fellow. That's better. Now you've cooled down."
"Yes," said Mark, with a smile, "and I shall soon be better now."
"That's your style. All my doing. I say, Van, old chap, I'll take to
doctoring you now; so kick old Whitney over, and leave it to me.
Russell says he shall come and see you soon--"
"I wish he would," cried Mark.
"If you don't soon come and see him."
"I only wish I could," said Mark, and he made an effort to rise, but
sank back with a piteous look of misery in his face, which made Bob
seize his hand.
"Here, I say," he cried cheerily. "Oh! Don't look like that. You're
only a bit weak, messmate. Avast there! take a good grip o' the health
tack; haul in your slack, and ahoy! you'll be full sail again in a week.
I say, what do you think of that? I'm getting on with my nautical
lingo, ain't I?"
Mark smiled feebly--just a wan, sickly smile, like a bit of sunshine on
a wintry day.
"Avast there! none of your grinning," cried Bob. "Better than you could
do it, old chap. That's your sort. Cheer up. I must be off now. I'll
come back and talk to you as soon as I can, and if you behave yourself
I'll sing you a song."
There was a genuine smile on Mark Vandean's face now, as he heard these
words delivered with utmost seriousness.
"No, no, don't, Bob," he said, feebly. "I am getting better, really,
now. Don't do that. It would be more than I could stand."
Bob Howlett uttered a peculiar sound, half-angry cry, half growl, caught
up his cap, and marched out, as if in high dudgeon, while Mark lay back,
staring at the open port-hole, through which came the warm glowing light
of the tropic sunshine.
"Poor old Bob!" he muttered; "he thinks he can sing, and of all the
dreadful noises ever made.--Ha, ha, ha!"
He laughed merrily at the recollection of some of his messmate's vocal
efforts, and his face was lit up as if with inward sunshine, till he
heard a voice and looked round in wonder, to see that Captain Maitland,
Mr Staples, and the doctor were at the doorway watching him.
"Humph!" cried the captain; "not much cause for anxiety here."
"No," said the first lieutenant: "he's what the men call miching. Here,
Vandean, when are you coming on deck? Can't have you lying here with
half a dozen people to wait upon you."
"I don't want to, sir," said Mark, in a piping voice. "Mr Whitney
knows."
"Yes, I know," said the doctor. "There," he continued, turning to the
two officers; "you don't think much of your doctor, but what do you say
to that?"
He patted Mark's head as he spoke.
"I believe half the surgeons in the navy would have let the poor fellows
slip through their fingers. I saved them all when they were in the most
hopeless state."
"Not all," said Mr Staples, with a sharp look at the captain. "What
about the poor niggers?"
"Well, I saved two of them, sir. The others were as good as dead when
you called me to them. Humph! did my part better than you did yours.
Why didn't you take the schooner?"
The captain laughed.
"He has us there, Staples," he said. "Let the doctors alone; they are a
bad set of people to play with. Only serve you out when you come into
their hands. Don't take any notice of him, Whitney. Well, Vandean, I'm
very glad to see you so cheerful, but don't presume upon it. You must
take it quietly, and be patient. I want to see you on deck again."
"Quite out of the question yet," said the doctor, sharply.
"I don't mean on duty, Whitney," said the captain smiling, "but in a
cane seat under the awning. It would be brighter and better for him to
see the men about."
"Thank you, sir," cried Mark, with a smile full of gratitude.
"Oh, that's different," said the doctor. "Well, after a few days I'll
have him carried up."
"Yes," said the first lieutenant, "and he can lie there and hatch
mischief along with Mr Howlett, and play with the monkey. Nice trio."
"Eh? Oh, yes, by the way, I cannot allow you young gentlemen to have
pets of that class on board my ship. You are not schoolboys now. Why,
you will be wanting white mice and guinea-pigs next!"
"Shall I have the animal thrown overboard?" said Mr Staples.
"Hump! Well--er--not till Mr Vandean is better. You'd like to keep it
a little longer, eh?" said the captain, turning to the young invalid.
"Very much," cried Mark, as he thought of the quaint little old man he
and Bob Howlett had bought.
"Very well, you can for the present."
"And now, gentlemen," interposed the doctor, "my patient requires rest
and cool air. You are fidgeting him and making the place hot."
"That means go. Well, Staples, we must give way, I suppose. The doctor
is always above the admiral. Make haste and get well, Vandean.
Good-bye."
He shook hands warmly and turned to leave the cabin, the first
lieutenant following his example, and turning to give the midshipman a
friendly nod.
"Hah!" said the doctor, as soon as they were alone; "they want to go too
fast, and undo my work. I shall not have done with you yet awhile,
Vandean, and you'll have to attend very strictly to my orders if I'm to
make a man of you. Did you take my medicine?"
"Yes, sir."
"Sure?"
Mark coloured.
"Yes, sir, I told you."
"Cock-a-doodle-doo!" cried the doctor. "Dear me, how bumptious we are,
young fellow. There, I believe you, but that's more than I'd do for
some of your tribe. There's Mr Bob Howlett, for instance. If he had
to take a dose, I should not only stop till he had emptied the glass,
but I should pinch his nose till I was sure he had swallowed it. There,
I will not give you more than is good for you, my lad. You think I'm
glad to get hold of a job, and will not leave it till I'm obliged; but
don't you fall into an error about that, my dear sir. I'm too fond of
ease."
"I'm sure you will do the best you can for me," said Mark; "and I want
to be grateful."
"Ah! Then you're an exception, my lad."
"How is Mr Russell, sir?"
"Getting on, but obstinate; wants to be well all at once, and get to his
duties. I must go and see him now. Mind and take your stuff regularly.
Morning."
The cabin was empty once more, save for the patient, who uttered a sigh
of relief, and lay listening to the soft _pad_, _pad_ of the sailors'
bare feet on the deck, and the voices of the officers giving their
orders, all sounding pleasantly familiar as he lay back there feeling
that he must be better from the interest he took in all that was going
on, and the pleasant clearness of his head.
"I wonder how long it will be before they have me on deck," he said to
himself.